Crawling on the bones

Wilson’s Phalarope late in a remnant of Great Salt Lake.

Last night I wandered about the wreckage of Great Salt Lake with Austin Smock, a documentary filmmaker and newcomer to the lake. I had just spent the last couple hours trying to explain to Austin the special magic of the lake, but once we got there, it was not magical. We were like ants on a carcass, trying to conjure a vision of the beast by crawling along the stinking bones.

The lake is essentially cut off from all its tributaries now - the Jordan river, which normally flows into the lake through a culvert under a causeway is just a trickle. What remains between the two bodies of water are some dwindling puddles. On the saltier (lake) side of the causeway the puddles are pink, crusted in salt, and almost totally devoid of life. On the less salty (river) side, the puddles are giving over to invasive phragmites and pond scum, and they absolutely packed with shorebirds arriving on the leading wave of fall migration.

And here in the small scenes we can still find some beauty. Wilson’s phalarope feeding in a remnant of Great Salt Lake late in the evening with the lights of the city just winking on.